Silent hum

I open my eyes.

This is my world now. This is my reality. Small, dingy bedroom. Thin, coarse sheets. The world, colour graded just a little bit too cold, a little bit too grey. Sunlight that never seemed to penetrate through that layer of cloud.

I walked along the gravel path, every footstep a reluctant one. And every step I took seemed to make the load on my back become heavier and heavier. The people chattering around me seemed surreal, faint voices on a radio turned way down.

What have I become? I was once full of life, of hope. The world was my oyster, I had it all figured out. Train rides used to be exciting, a start to the far places I would travel in life; now it was dreaded, a carriage dragging me to places I wished not to go.  Have I merely grown up? Or has this cruel world broken my spirit?

The rustle of a newspaper, the low rumbling of a train. The monotonous tapping of computer keyboards. The blare of a car horn, the ring of a cash register.

This is my world now. This is my reality.
The silent hum of life.